Every Christmas is Last Christmas
by RimGreaper
Summary: "Every night is the last night for something, every Christmas is last Christmas." A small final scene between River and the Doctor after their final night on Darillium. Who said the Doctor couldn't sit still. May add a second chapter later on, if I feel inspired. Feel free to review or whatever, just enjoy this little piece.


A fire crackled in its brick hearth, radiating heat like a dog does happiness. A constant flow of smoke travelled up the chimney into the crisp Darillium air, and the logs in the fireplace shifted almost lazily as they burnt. As one log hit the ground, hundreds of tiny glowing lights scattered into the air, floating down and settling on and around two sets of feet, the feet of the universe's oldest doctor and best archaeologist. What a team they made.

River's head was propped against the Doctor as much as the Doctor's was against hers, and she slept quietly, thin mists of breath escaping from her mouth. The Doctor however, was never much of a sleeper, and eyes open, looked into the fire, mind elsewhere. He was not one for sitting down much, always something to do.

 _But this,_ he thought, _I don't mind this._ He wasn't sure if this inner voice was a crotchety old man, or a Scottish man in a velvet coat, or something in between. _Not that it matters,_ his mind said, _They're all me anyway._ He lifted his head from its cosy spot against River's, and stretched his neck. River's head landed on his shoulder, with nothing but a small noise from the head.

 _You know what? I think I've just about had enough with heads for a good part of this face. Disembodied heads, anyway._ The Doctor's joke fell upon silent ears even in his own head. _Maybe I let that joke sit 23 years too long._ 23 years. He knew that the night they started so long ago would nearly be over, that the ever approaching Christmas would be their last.

"I'm not ready to let you go." The Doctor confessed, glad that his words would fall upon asleep ears. He could do this sappy stuff sometimes, but in front of people? Not a chance. He looked out the nearest window to the outline of the Singing Towers, the oh-so-slowly but surely suns finally reaching the end of their 24 year absence. He turned his attention to stroking River's hair, and looked at the Sonic he'd given her back at the beginning, now cracked and worn by use. But cared for very carefully.

He smiled a sad smile, carefully stood up (as not to wake the sleeping River) and crept into the TARDIS. After a couple of minutes of rummaging, he walked out with reindeer antlers atop his grey hair, jingling softly with every sock-muffled step. The Doctor looked at his socks, seeing the bright Christmas patterns flash back at him.

"That's the last time you choose my socks, Professor Song." As if summoned by this line, River stirred, sitting up slightly on the couch.

"Hello, sweetie." She managed to mumble. _For such a loud and boisterous wife, River really wasn't a morning person..._ The Doctor thought to himself.

"Why hello, sleepyhead. Wakey wakey!" The Doctor's words happened to time perfectly the golden-orange sunlight's entrance, spilling through the window across the wooden floorboards.

As River's mind reasserted itself more and more, the day itself came to her mind.

"It's Christmas Day, isn't it. The Christmas Day." Her eyes spoke so much sadness, too much for her apparent age.

"It doesn't have to be sad. All endings come, all we can do is hope we have a good exit." The Doctor spoke in a soft tone that made his Scottish voice seem so much more... Earthly.

"A good exit? Is that what Darillium is, Doctor? A nice end scene?"

"Well of course it is! If we have to have one more night, why not have it the best place possible? Heck, I basically told myself to come here!" He grinned. "The tourist reviews don't get much better than that." River's face softened.

"I honestly can't argue back. You've defeated me, Doctor."

"Me? Defeat the indestructible Melody Pond? You must have me confused with someone else!"

"I don't think I have, you know." River smiled an old smile at the Doctor. "And if you think you can get away with leaving on Christmas morning, you're mistaken, sweetie."

"...yes ma'am." The Doctor sat back down on the couch.

"Thank you Doctor."

"I know." They looked at each other, speaking stories with their faces until one of them could look no more. For as much as he liked stories, he could never face the ending.

Well at least not by himself.


End file.
